


always together

by indigo_penstrokes



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, also spot and raf are the best of friends and you cant change my mind, nothing is super graphic but rafs wounds are kinda dealt with in depths, so read at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_penstrokes/pseuds/indigo_penstrokes
Summary: rafaela gets beat to hell and the first person she comes to is spot, aka a prompt fill for "who the hell did this to you"





	always together

Rafaela slumped into the lodging house at almost three in the afternoon, her head pounding. She hurt all over and she was pretty sure she had left a trail of blood all the way from the Queens border, even with her scarf wrapped around her bleeding knuckles. Maybe if she was careful she could make it to an empty bunk and leave before the other newsies got back. No one would be the wiser to her being there.

But she wasn't so lucky. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Spot's voice rang out through the empty foyer of the building, it was full of concern and it cut through Rafaela.

“Hi Spot.” She winced, looking sheepish as she stood there, trying not to fidget. She thought Spot would be out selling, or at least down by the docks.

“Who the hell did this to you?” Spot was suddenly standing right in front of her. His eyes taking in all of the scraps and bruises, a furrow making its way into his forehead.

“No one, I fell off a trolley.” She tried to push past Spot, she needed bandages that she didn't have at home. 

“Bullshit.” He gently pulled her the rest of the way into the building and out of the midday sun.

Rafaela sighed, “It was nothing, just a scuffle.” 

“Rafaela,” Spot crossed his arms, “You're one of my best, so tell me. Who the fuck did this to you because I know you can hold your own.” 

Rafaela sighed again, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest. That was new, “It was one of Strikers guys, he was saying that I had gotten onto Queens turf, then when I told him to piss off another guy jumped me from behind.” She shook out her left hand, “Though he’s gonna have a nasty shiner in the morning.” 

“Raf-”

“Spot no. It was nothing, I've been through worse.” The lie sat foreign on her tongue, but she continued on hoping Spot wouldn't call her on it, “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“You're limping, have a black eye, and there's blood dripping down your face. That is not fine.” Spot stood firm, but concern worried at his mouth.

“Coming from the guy who was a bloody pulp and still went out selling.” She smiled slightly, though the memory wasn't pleasant it was what had cemented her as Spot’s second in command far before he was even considering being their next leader. “Just help me get patched up.” 

Spot just sighed as he went to grab bandages and rags, “You're impossible Raf.” 

“It's why you love me.” But the quip fell short as she stumbled forward, the world swimming around her. It seemed the crack to the head was finally catching up with her.

“Shit.” Spot ran over to catch the falling Rafaela. “Stay with me.” 

“'M trying.” But the way her vision was going dark begged to differ. “Don't let go.” She slurred.

“I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” He mumbled adjusting his hold on her, one arm now hooked behind her knees and the other cradling her upper body. 

“Thanks.” Her eyes fought her to droop closed, her face tucked neatly into Spot's shoulder. “I can't stay 'wake.” 

“Try for me, c'mon.” Spot's voice shook as he hauled her back towards the washroom. “Open your eyes.” 

“Can’t, head hurts too much.” Her words felt like cotton clogging up her mouth and weighing down her tongue. 

Spot was silent for a few beats, she imagined he had his mouth pressed into a worried line. 

“I'm setting you down, so you gotta sit up for me.” And true to his word she was slowly lowered to the floor, the cold metal of the bathtub against her back. 

“Mhm,” she grunted in response, the world still felt wobbly even with her eyes squeezed shut. She heard Spot rummage around for something in the cabinets. 

“I know you're beat up, but where is it the worst.” His voice was closer than it was, meaning he was probably sitting in front of her. 

“Ribs. Head. Hands,” she gritted out, she tasted blood in her mouth again. “They kicked my ribs and stepped on my hands.” 

“I’m gonna start with your hands,” Spot narrated as he unwound the scarf from her grip. “Tell me if anything hurts worse.” 

Carefully he moved each of her fingers through their full range of motion, luckily no more pain flared up other than the dull ache that accompanied deep bruises. “Nothing.” 

“Not broken then.” The relief was evident in his voice with the almost broken sounding sigh that escaped after his words. 

Rafaela cracked her eyes open, it was darker in the washroom, but her head still pounded like a million horses were running through it. “Hand me a washcloth.”

Spot complied, giving her a damp rag. She began to wipe off her bloodied hands, watching as the cloth went from grey to pink, because fuck it all if she wasn't still capable of taking care of herself. 

“I need you to unbutton your shirt.” And if Spot Conlon could ever sound bashful it would have been then and there. 

Rafaela managed a weak laugh that sounded more like a dying wheeze than any sort of laugh. “Geez Spotty we've known each other for how many years and now you're asking to take my clothes off?” 

“You're insufferable, even when you're beat to hell.” But his smile was warm, and there was no malice anywhere in his words. 

“You love it.” She would have winked as she started at the buttons, but that took more control than she had at the moment, even her fingers shook. 

Finally her shirt was open, camisole pulled up just far enough for both of them to see the angry red and purple mark that mottled Rafaela's side. Luckily there was no blood, but it looked like a rib might have gotten cracked. 

Spot blew out a breath, mouth turned down in a scowl. “Something is definitely cracked or broken.”

Another sharp pain stabbed into Rafaela's chest. “Sounds about right,” she hissed through clenched teeth, eyes falling closed again. 

She did her best to shallow out her breathing, the less she moved her chest the better. Meanwhile Spot took a folded up handful of rags and pressed it gently against the side of her chest. 

“I need you to hold that while I tie the bandage in place.” It was a trick they had all learned whenever one of them hurt a rib or two. They hadn't a clue why it worked, but it did and that's all they could ask for. 

“Got it.” Rafaela held her breath, ignoring the brief pain as Spot secured the wrap. 

“Done,” he said, tying off the final knot. “Now, let's get you cleaned up.” 

“I got it.” She held her hand out for another damp rag, the other trying to push herself up off the edge of the tub. “I'm not useless.” 

Spot gave her a look that said otherwise, but he handed her another cloth all the same. “Have I mentioned you're insufferable?” 

“Just a few times.” Rafaela smirked as she wiped the blood from her face, wincing when she pressed against the bruise on her cheekbone, it seemed she'd hit the ground harder than she thought. She carefully scrubbed at the blood matting at the edge of her hairline, very aware that Spot was watching her from the doorway. “I told you I’m fine,” she sing songed, feeling only marginally better than before. Her brain still thrummed against her skull, begging her to sleep away the pain.

“I know,” is all he said as she threw the rag into the wash bucket. “And I care about you enough to make sure.” 

“Thank you,” Rafaela said softly, meaning it completely. 

“It's what brothers are for.” Spot nodded turning around slowly, waiting for Rafaela to follow. He was her brother in everything but blood, it was a connection deeper than even the one she had with her actual brother. 

The pair made it to Spot's room in the back of the lodge without any more words, the silence that filled the space was more than enough to speak for them. 

“I’ve gotta go check on some of the newsies.” She could tell he wanted to say more, but he held the words back. 

“I’ll sleep here and go home when you get back. Joey will want to check up on me anyway. I’ll be fine,” she assured him with a wry smile. “Go check up on lover boy at the races.” 

“Just for that I'm gonna send Joey back early, let her smother you with care.” 

“Just go.” If she could Rafaela would have pushed him out of the room herself, but for now her words would have to do. Besides, if he followed through and did send Joey back early things wouldn't be too terrible after all.

**Author's Note:**

> as always comments and kudos will make my day! come talk to me on tumblr @ad-astra-de-luna


End file.
